A Pound of Flesh

Chapter Sixteen: Not Enough Time

In the morning, Hermione waited anxiously for Draco to show some sign that he had heard her the night before, but he was still half-asleep when he kissed her in farewell and saw her to the door. In spite of herself, she felt relieved. She still had more time left with him, then.

She went back to her flat and took a shower. As she rinsed off, the impossibility of her situation again hit her with such force that she clung to the side of the shower and gasped for air.

She was in love with Draco Malfoy. She was in love with the man who had once been an intolerably cruel person to her. And while she remembered him from what seemed like a different lifetime, he had no recollection of her at all. Perhaps the most painful of all the facts to swallow was that she loved him and she was going to lose him if – when, she told herself firmly – she managed to have his memories restored.

But she loved him. And new love was heady. Her doubts and fears evaporated in the face of the overwhelming giddiness that swooped through her body.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes. She felt peaceful now that she’d said the words – all of them – and she knew she would be able to say them again. Her body felt lighter. She took a deep breath and her lungs didn’t ache. With a secret smile, she pictured the awed expression on Draco’s face from the night before.

He was alive. And for now, he was hers.

***

Hermione made it to work with time to spare. The Ministry always felt especially sleepy to her on Friday mornings, but today she felt nothing if not aware. With the weight of her confessions off her shoulders, she could see things with a new clarity, and she strode off the lifts toward her cubicle in the Magical Law Enforcement offices with a bounce in her step.

Susan hadn’t arrived yet, so Hermione tossed her cloak over the back of her chair and headed to the break room for a cup of coffee. Along the way, she passed several coworkers, some as bright-eyed as she, others moving slowly as they attempted to fully awaken. She greeted each with a warm hello, which earned her more than one surprised stare. Had she really been in such a funk all this time that a cheerful ‘good morning’ garnered such a reaction?

Yes, she supposed she had.

She’d been in mourning for several months. Ron had been a part of her life for so long, since before she’d thought about boys as boys and her most pressing concern was learning as much as she could cram into her head. Ron had been a childhood dream, and then a fantasy born in a fourteen-year-old girl’s mind, and then cultivated into being what she thought was her one true love during the subsequent seven years.

When he left, it was as if half of Hermione had died.

Now that she thought about it, the irresistible pull toward Draco had as much to do with her level of attraction to him as with the feeling of coming back to life. He’d burnt across the black space that she’d made her home like a bolt of lightning and brought fire and passion back into her life.

As she poured herself a steaming cup of coffee, she recalled that Harry and Ginny were due back from their honeymoon sometime during the day. She could hardly believe that it had been two weeks since their wedding. So much had happened in those two weeks; it felt like it had been so much longer.

What she wouldn’t give to tell Ginny everything that had happened during her absence. But she also could imagine Ginny’s reaction to the discovery that Hermione was still messing around with Draco Malfoy, and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to it.

When she returned to the desk with a cup of coffee in each hand, Susan was flipping through the short stack of files that had materialized in their cubicle overnight.

“Good morning.” Hermione handed Susan a cup of coffee and seated herself. “Anything good today?”

Susan shrugged. “Looks like a couple cases of Muggle-baiting, another sighting of our maker of illegal potions, a patrol of Diagon Alley and some follow-ups.” She groaned and lowered her head to the desk. “Just what I need the day before my holiday. This is going to take all day.”

Susan’s prediction wasn’t entirely off. In between investigations and follow-ups, Hermione barely had time for her lunch appointment with Luna, who was as eager to hear about Hermione’s Muggle as she was about the impending final battle reenactment, which was to happen in five days.

Luna was full of questions, but she had also promised a wealth of information about the New Moon group, so Hermione indulged Luna’s curiosity and answered as many of her questions about the Muggle in her flat as she could.

“When can we meet him?” Luna asked.

Hermione squirmed in her seat. “Not for a while,” she responded. “We haven’t been dating that long and I haven’t told him about all of this.” She gestured broadly around the Leaky Cauldron.

“Oh, about magic?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, when you tell him, let me know. I want to meet him. I never understood you with Ron, and this Damien fellow sounds like a better match for you.”

Hermione wrinkled her brow in confusion. “You never understood me with Ron?”

“You weren’t very well-matched,” Luna said matter-of-factly. “You are much more cerebral than Ron.”

“Smarter, you mean?” Hermione quirked her lips in a small smile.

“Smarter,” Luna agreed. “And more rational, and kinder. Ron is a nice bloke and all, but he often doesn’t think things through, nor consider his words.”

Hermione couldn’t argue with that.

After they finished their meal, Luna produced the folder with more information on the final battle reenactment group, which she slid across the table to Hermione. As they stood to part ways, Dean walked in through the door to the courtyard.

“Ah, there you are,” he said as he bent to kiss the top of Luna’s head. Luna flushed prettily. “Hello, Hermione! I hear you’ve been rather busy lately.” He waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

“Hi, Dean.” She didn’t respond to his pointed comment. “I wish I could stay and chat, but I need to get back to work.”

“Sure. I just figured you’d like to hear that Harry and Ginny are back from their honeymoon.”

Hermione turned back to him at once. “They’re back?”

Dean nodded. “They got back this morning, according to Ron.”

“How did they look?” Luna asked.

“According to Ron,” Dean said with a roll of his eyes, “they look exhausted, tanned, and exceptionally happy.”

Hermione smiled. She looked forward to seeing them the following day at the dinner that was planned at the Burrow to welcome them home. “Dinner still on for five tomorrow?” she asked Dean.

He nodded.

“See you there, then,” Hermione told him, and then she bid both Dean and Luna farewell.

She made it back to the Ministry before Susan, who had run home during lunch to finish packing for her upcoming holiday to Greece. While Hermione waited for Susan to return, she flipped open the folder that Luna had given her, which held information on the organizers of the New Moon group.

Several minutes later, as she was mentally flaying Xenophilius Lovegood for his poor note taking skills, Susan reappeared, slightly out of breath.

“Sorry,” she began. “I’m leaving straightaway after work and I had to make arrangements with my landlady and she couldn’t be arsed to do anything until her television program was over.”

Hermione took one last scathing glance at the chicken scratch that constituted research for the Quibbler and slammed the folder closed. She shoved it aside, wondering why she’d bothered wasting her time.

“What’s that?” Susan asked as she slid into her seat.

“New Moon reenactment group information.”

“I’m rather sorry I’ll be missing that.”

“Liar,” Hermione retorted. “You’ll be in club chatting up some Greek Adonis; meanwhile, I’ll be here chasing Dung’s ghosts.”

Susan smiled in anticipation. “Yeah, you’re right. As always.” She laughed then, and added, “But if it turns out that Draco Malfoy is alive after all, ring me up and I’ll come right back.”

Hermione laughed as well, amazed that Susan, usually so perceptive, didn’t pick up on how false her mirth sounded. But then again, Susan was almost bouncing on the edge of her seat with eagerness to be away on her weeklong holiday. If she wasn’t looking for deception from her partner, who was Hermione to complain?

The rest of the workday passed at a snail’s pace, a condition which was only exacerbated by the fact that Susan glanced at her watch at least once every three minutes. Therefore, it was with no small measure of relief that at the end of her shift, she bid farewell to Susan and watched as her partner all but ran out of the office.

She waited until the lift doors closed behind Susan before she sank limply into her chair, exhausted from an afternoon of tedious work that left too much room for thought. Her heady high had worn off, leaving behind a creeping dread as she considered her situation. She rested her forehead against her palm and stared at her bare desk.

Five days until the new moon. Five days until she came face to face with a part of her past she’d long tried to forget. Was she ready to remember at last? She wasn’t sure; a queasy chill churned in her stomach as she dredged up long suppressed memories of that final battle.

It had been three years. Was that enough time?

Harry had at last faced the past. If any of them deserved the luxury of not remembering, it was Harry. Maybe it was time to call upon some of her lagging Gryffindor courage and open her school trunk.

What had Draco said? Even if something really bad did happen, there’s got to be parts of my life then that are worth remembering, he’d said. It couldn’t all be bad. Everything that happens, happens for a reason.

It was easier now, she realized, to think of those first few raw months after the war when they’d all thrown themselves into life and denial. And there were even few memories from that frantic year on the run that she could now think of with a smile.

But was she ready to face that part of her past? The most horrible day in her living memory? She supposed she would find out in five days time. Five days was not enough time.

And always – always – she was marching closer to the end of her days with Draco. With every bit of information, each new fact, every dead end, the end drew nearer. No, not enough time. Not enough by a long shot.

***

The next morning, eager to finally meet Tom, Hermione dragged Draco out of bed. He grumbled a fair bit but begrudgingly joined her in the shower. As he shampooed her hair, he told her a little bit more about how he’d met Tom, a story she’d already gleaned from his journals.

“Tom’s a good chap,” Draco finished. “You’ll like him.”

“I’m sure I will,” Hermione answered.

Draco’s fingers rubbed her head with just the right amount of pressure, and she placed her hands on his chest to steady herself as a wave of blissful relaxation swept through her.

“I’m in heaven,” she commented.

With a chuckle, Draco eased her back under the spray of hot water and began to rinse away the shampoo. The water from the showerhead pounded down on her head and shoulders, and sent racing tingles along her spine. Hermione decided that showers with Draco would be mandatory from then on.

“So when do I get to meet your friends?”

Hermione tensed; thankfully, Draco didn’t notice.

“Soon,” she lied.

“Good, because I have a feeling Tom’s going to do his absolute best to humiliate me today, and I’m going to need some good Jane stories as payback.”

“What if there are no good Jane stories?” Hermione hedged as she rubbed water out of her eyes.

Draco’s lips twisted up in a quirked half smile. “Nice try, but I’m not buying it. Everyone has at least one good story.” He snagged the bottle of conditioner from the shower caddy and squirted a dollop onto his palm. “Turn,” he commanded, and Hermione obediently turned away from him. His fingers once more began their delicious march across her scalp, and she decided she wasn’t going to let any more worry ruin this moment.

Tom was waiting for them at the café down the street from Draco’s flat. He did not notice them at first; he was busy flirting with the waitress. Then the waitress, shaking her head, stepped back, and Tom’s twinkling eyes slid away from her and alighted on Draco. In an instant, his eyes filled with a different sort of mischief.

Draco tugged on her hand joined with his and slowed their pace. “I’m sorry, in advance,” he whispered in her ear.

Hermione kept a polite smile firmly in place. “Are you going to owe me later?” she asked out of the side of her mouth.

“Big time.” Draco sounded so sure of himself, and so chagrined, that Hermione stifled a chuckle.

Tom stood as they reached the table, and he smiled warmly at Hermione.

“Tom, this is Jane Granger, my girlfriend.”

Tom’s eyebrow jumped a fraction of an inch.

“Jane, this is my mate, Tom Altman.”

Hermione held out her hand and Tom shook it, his grasp firm. “A pleasure,” she said.

“Likewise. It’s good to finally see what all the fuss is about.”

Draco groaned. “Tom,” he begged.

Tom just grinned. “Though what you’re doing with a wanker like this, I haven’t any idea.”

“He’s good in bed.”

Tom’s mouth fell open in shock. Beside her, she heard Draco guffaw.

“Oh, I like you,” Tom grinned. “You’ve got spunk.”

Hermione primly sat in the chair Draco pulled out for her and reached for a menu. She pretended to ignore the silent conversation of nods and eyebrow quirks that went on beyond the barrier of her menu, though it amused her to watch Draco preen smugly.

Brunch turned out to be a pleasant affair. Once Tom finished with his attempts to embarrass Draco, he turned out to be rather charming. After they’d finished eating, Tom reminded them of a local street festival, and since Hermione still had several hours until she was due at the Burrow, she agreed with Tom that the day would not be complete without a sausage roll.

During the walk to the festival, Tom drew Hermione into a conversation about the community college that he and Draco attended, and that led to a conversation about a local university he wanted to attend once he finished his A-levels.

“Jane,” he said with a flirtatious smile, “why is it that a woman clearly as smart as you didn’t end up at Oxford or something like that? Why are you part of the MPS when you ought to be graduating from university?”

Stumped, Hermione bit her lip and thought about the answer to that question. The most obvious answer, the one she couldn’t give, was that after Voldemort was dead, the Ministry needed people to help rebuild, and so she had forgone higher education to help the Ministry. Harry and Ron, too, had put their lives on hold until the Ministry was fully functional again.

But while Harry and Ron had eventually moved on with their lives and decided to pursue their love of Quidditch, Hermione had lingered on at the Ministry, stagnant. She’d once dreamed of attending Oxford, or of any university, really, and she could have gotten in.

“Stop badgering her, mate.” Draco poked Tom’s shoulder. “She’s saving the world from bad guys.”

Hermione shot a surprised look at Draco. “No, it’s fine, actually. I was just considering his question. It’s a good one. I’d like to do something besides save the world from bad guys.”

“It’s an important profession,” Tom noted.

“Yes, but you’re right that I should be doing something else.”

Tom held up his hand. “Wait. I didn’t say –”

Hermione shook her head. “I know you didn’t. But you’re right, all the same.”

“I can’t picture you doing anything besides saving the world from bad guys,” Draco said reasonably. “Though I’m sure you’d do well at whatever you tried your hand at.”

“I bet you were the smartest girl in school,” Tom said.

“Of course she was,” Draco smiled. “She’s the smartest witch of our age.”

Shocked, Hermione tripped over her feet and had to grab onto Draco for support, who wrapped an arm around her waist.

As Draco helped her regain her balance, he asked “Alright, there, Jane?”

Somewhat breathless, she shook herself and lied automatically. “Yeah, sidewalk just jumped up at me.”

As they continued down the sidewalk, Tom grew uncharacteristically quiet. Hermione sneaked a glance at him as she pushed her hair out of her face. She was not entirely surprised to see that he was watching her, and he had an apprehensive expression on his face.

***

Three sausage rolls, several pints, and two hours later, Draco excused himself to use the loo, and Hermione opted to stay on the sidewalk with Tom and listen to the band on a nearby stage.

She decided that Draco could not have found a better friend. Tom was sarcastic, self-deprecating, and he seemed to keep Draco from taking himself too seriously. More importantly, he appeared to be very good at ignoring the odd things that came out of Draco’s mouth.

As Hermione watched Draco disappear into the crowd, she figured that if she was to ever have a chance to get Tom to open up about Draco, it would be now. Tom seemed to realize this as well, as he once more regarded her with apprehension.

“Say, Tom, about earlier…”

Tom struggled with himself for a moment, and then sighed, “Yeah?”

“When Damien… well, when he said…”

“About you being a witch?”

“Yeah.”

“What of it?” Tom shifted away from her, and his expression grew guarded.

“How often does that happen?”

Tom eyed her, a speculative look on his face.

“Him saying odd things like that?”

Hermione nodded.

“Why? Are you going to call him a nutter and break up with him too?”

Too? A new piece of the puzzle, however inconsequential, fell into place. The other girls Draco had dated had thought he was going crazy and left him. Which meant that he’d been having spurts of memories for quite some time.

“He’s not a nutter,” Hermione said more fiercely than she’d intended. “And I am not going to break up with him.”

Tom didn’t seem convinced.

“Listen, just because those cows dumped him doesn’t mean I will. I… care about him. Very much.” Hermione felt her face begin to flush. “I want to help him remember.”

A moment of silent observation passed. Then Tom sighed. “Just… don’t tell him I told you. He thinks he’s losing his mind.”

“Because of…” Hermione gestured helplessly. “This?”

“Yeah. Sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s said or done anything strange until people look at him like he’s grown a second head.” Then Tom blinked, and his forehead creased in confusion. “But you didn’t seem that surprised,” he stated.

She shook her head.

“You’ve seen something like that happen before.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded. She thought back to the day not too long ago, when Draco had remembered her from Potions class. “Once, at my flat, he had a...” She choked off before she said the word ‘memory’. “I think he was remembering a dream.” She fidgeted with her empty soda bottle. “Does that happen a lot?”

“Not really. Well,” he amended, “it’s been happening a lot more lately, but it used to only happen every few months. He needs to lay off all those fantasy books he reads, if you ask me.” Abruptly, he shut his mouth, and Hermione turned to follow his line of sight. She spotted Draco making his way back to them.

“Listen, Tom, I won’t say anything.”

Tom still looked vexed.

“I swear,” Hermione added.

“You better not,” Tom said at last, and then he started to laugh and motioned Hermione to do the same. Understanding the subterfuge, Hermione smiled and began to laugh as well.

“What’s the joke?” Draco asked as he pushed his way through to them at last.

“Can’t tell you, now, can I?” Tom said with a sly smile.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Been telling stories about me again?”

“Of course.”

“Nothing bad, though,” Hermione added as Draco grimaced. She caught Tom’s eye. “I swear.”

***

Hermione parted ways with Draco and Tom at four. She stopped briefly at her flat to change clothes and feed Crookshanks, and then she Apparated to the back gate of the Burrow.

She stood at the gate for a long moment and gathered her thoughts. The scene in the kitchen with Ron after the wedding replayed in her head in a continuous loop. Did the rest of the family know they’d rowed? Would it be awkward and uncomfortable?

Soon, though, her eagerness to see her friends won out over her anxiety. Two weeks without Harry and Ginny had been a very long two weeks, indeed. She bounded through the gate and rushed up the path to the back door. When the back door opened to admit her, however, she drew up short as she came face to face with Ron.

“Hermione.”

“Ron,” she returned.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, and Hermione was painfully aware of the awkward memory of their shouting match as it hung between them. Then Ron stepped back and gestured her in.

“Everyone is in the other room.”

Hermione nodded. “Thanks.”

From the other room, she could hear Harry as he regaled the congregated Weasleys with a story. She couldn’t quite make out the details, but then the gathered group burst into loud laughter. She smiled; everyone sounded happy. She pushed open the door and entered, unnoticed.

Harry and Ginny sat on the sofa, and Teddy sat at Harry’s feet and watched Victoire as she played with a stuffed dragon. The rest of the family was scattered about on chairs or sitting on pillows on the floor. Mrs. Weasley and Andromeda perched on a settee near the fireplace, Fleur and Bill leaned against each other on the floor near Victoire, Charlie and his girlfriend Siobhan were crammed into another sofa along with George and Angelina, Percy sat on the floor at Audrey’s feet, and Mr. Weasley sat in a chair near his wife.

As Hermione looked around, she realized everyone had a pair. Her eyes landed on Andromeda. Well, almost everyone. She shifted on her feet, uncomfortable, as she heard Ron come in behind her. She glanced over at Ron and discovered he was watching her out of the corner of his eyes. She attempted a genial smile.

“Where’s Romilda?” she asked in a low tone.

Ron flushed and looked away. “She couldn’t make it,” he mumbled.

Just then, Mrs. Weasley looked up and noticed her. “Hermione!” she greeted, her voice warm as she stood and threaded her way through the crowded room. The rest of the family chorused their hellos, and Mrs. Weasley held her at arm’s length before gathering her into a crushing hug. “I’m so glad you came,” the Weasley matron whispered in her ear.

“Couldn’t keep me away,” Hermione responded, overwhelmed by the warmth of Mrs. Weasley’s welcome. Either Ron still had not told his mother the truth about their breakup, or he had and she didn’t care.

Harry was next, and Hermione kissed each of his cheeks before he picked her up in a hug that lifted her from her feet. She squeaked in surprise and then laughed as he set her on the ground. “It’s good to see you!” he told her.

Then Ginny was there as well, looking every bit as happy and tan as Dean had said she was. Hermione released Harry and threw her arms around Ginny. “You look like you had a good time,” Hermione whispered to her.

“You’ve no idea. Thank goodness Mum taught us all those charms,” Ginny murmured, a naughty smile on her face.

Hermione laughed quietly. “Harry looks intact so apparently you did them right.”

Ginny sniggered into her hand and schooled her face into a mask of innocence as Harry glanced at them.

“Do I want to know?” he asked.

“Probably not,” Ginny told him. Then she took hold of Hermione’s arm and pulled her further into the room. “Come sit.”

Hermione looked around the room again. “Where are Luna and Dean?”

Ginny shared a conspiratorial glance with Hermione. “Running late. As usual.”

As Hermione sat down on Harry’s other side, she snuck a glance at Ron, who remained by the door, looking forlorn. She was willing to bet every galleon in her vault that once the wedding was over and her picture was in the paper, Romilda had made herself scarce. Ron leaned against the wall and frowned at his feet, and Hermione felt the faint stirrings of sympathy in her chest.

Later, after Luna and Dean had arrived, everyone gathered in the kitchen, which was cramped, indeed. Mrs. Weasley directed everyone to take a seat at the enlarged table. Hermione did a quick count of heads – seventeen adults and two toddlers in one very claustrophobic kitchen. She hung back and waited for the majority of the family to be seated, which turned out to be a mistake. In the end, the two seats available were between George and Ron, or at the end of the table by the fire, which was Mrs. Weasley’s seat.

Wondering if there was a grand scheme in place designed to continually put her in awkward situations with her ex-boyfriend, Hermione squeezed herself through the space between the table and the wall and dropped into the seat between Ron and George. At least she was across from Harry and Ginny. Andromeda, Luna and Dean were also toward her end of the table.

“There, now,” Mrs. Weasley said as she carried the final serving plate to the table. “This is lovely. Everyone together at last.” She seated herself at the end of the table and turned to her husband. “Arthur, dear, why don’t you give a toast?”

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and stood. He raised his glass and thought for a moment. “To friends and family, and friends that are family. To our new son-in-law and to our future daughter-in-law. To those of you who have been with us for many years, and those of you who are new to our fold. Long life, love and happiness to you all. Cheers.”

Hermione raised her glass with the others and drank to everyone’s happiness. As the meal progressed without incident, she started to relax. But then there was a lull in the conversation, and Mrs. Weasley chose that moment to speak up.

“I just can’t get over how beautiful you girls looked in your dresses,” she started. “Ginny especially, but Hermione and Luna as well. Don’t you think so, Dean? Ron?”

Next to her, Ron jumped in his seat, which startled Hermione so much that she nearly inhaled her pumpkin juice. She hastily set her glass down before she spilled it on herself.

“I agree,” Dean said. “I’ve never seen Luna look so enchanting.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Luna kissed him quickly on his cheek.

“Ron?” Mrs. Weasley prodded.

“Luna did look nice,” he agreed.

“And Hermione?”

Hermione felt her face flush as she realized that it was not the universe conspiring against her, but a short, redheaded woman with a temper as fiery as her hair. She slumped in her seat and wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

“Hermione looked nice too,” Ron grumbled.

At that moment, Dean intervened on what he no doubt thought was her behalf. “Say, Hermione,” he began, “did you get a chance to show off that dress to your boyfriend? I bet he liked it.”

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. Yes, she wanted to say, and he liked it even better hanging on the hook on his bathroom door. But more importantly, she wanted Dean to shut up, as the entire table’s undivided attention was now focused on her.

“Your boyfriend?” Ginny repeated. Her eyes were wide with shock.

“Hermione, you’re dating someone?” George asked.

“A Muggle,” Ron supplied, his voice tight.

“That bloke you’ve been seeing? He’s your boyfriend now? I thought he wasn’t really your type,” Harry interjected, curiosity and wariness warring on his features. He darted a quick glance at Ron, but Hermione kept her eyes forward, not daring to see what Ron’s expression might be.

Instead, she shot a glare at Luna, who had the grace to look embarrassed. The blonde girl shrugged in apology and mouthed, ‘Sorry’.

Then she looked around at the rest of the table, noting the varied expressions at the revelation that she had started dating again. Fleur, Angelina and Audrey all looked supremely satisfied; Bill, Charlie and Percy looked merely interested; George’s face was split in a gleeful grin (no doubt as he considered the new ways he could tease Hermione), Mr. Weasley was watching his wife with an apprehensive expression, and Mrs. Weasley looked near tears. Lastly, she chanced a look at Ron, who was staring at his plate, the tips of his ears red.

She looked back to Harry to answer his question and caught sight of Ginny, who paled rapidly as realization seared across her face. Ginny met her gaze, a question in her eyes. Hermione looked away at once.

“Yeah,” she said, turning to Harry. “He’s my boyfriend now.”

At once, the table erupted as everyone shot questions at her.

“What’s his name?”

“How did you meet him?”

“How long have you been dating him?”

“What does he look like?”

“When can we meet him?”

Hermione held up her hands to stave off any further interrogation. “His name is Damien. I met him at a club about a month ago.”

“When can we meet him?” Harry repeated.

“I don’t know, Harry.”

“Hermione.” Ginny sat up in her chair and placed her hands on the table. “Is it that bloke you met the night we went out?”

It was impossible to miss the pleading tone in Ginny’s voice, and Harry gave his wife a questioning look. Hermione couldn’t blame Ginny for her disbelief; after all, before the wedding, Hermione had professed to be done buggering Draco Malfoy for kicks. And now, just two weeks later, here she was declaring him to be her boyfriend.

“It is, Ginny.”

“Oh, you’ve already met him?” Harry turned to Ginny, who was still pale. “You alright?”

“Fine, I think I’m just… tired.”

“Have you met him, Luna?” George asked, no doubt guessing how Dean had become so informed.

Hermione snapped her head around to gaze at Luna and pleaded silently with the other girl to keep her mouth shut.

Luna met Hermione’s gaze with wide eyes. “No,” Luna said. “I haven’t.”

Charlie’s girlfriend, Siobhan, was the one who saved Hermione from further interrogation. “Well, I’m sure we’ll meet him sooner or later,” she said sensibly. “How goes the planning for your wedding, Angelina?”

As the discussion turned toward George and Angelina’s holiday wedding, Hermione sank back in her chair and shot a grateful look at Siobhan, who winked at her. Beside her, Ron continued to stare at his plate, silent.

And when she looked across the table at Ginny, she swallowed, her throat tight. The disappointment on her friend’s face was hard to bear. And Hermione knew it was only a matter of time until Ginny said precisely what she thought of Hermione Granger doing something as foolish as dating Draco Malfoy.

---

Author's Notes: It feels like it's been forever since I updated but I think it's just been a month. Perhaps that's because I rewrote this chapter twice and ended up writing quite a bit for the next two chapters in addition to this one. With all that rewriting, there were a lot of scenes or bits that got cut out, and once they no longer present spoilers to the story, I'll be posting them at my yahoo group, so make sure you join so you can see those bits.